


Talk About It Much

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [12]
Category: Night World - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Witches, Crossover, Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, John Sheppard +/ Rodney McKay, There are a few demons in his childhood."</p><p>Post-sex John is chatty and cuddly, and Rodney has questions about Growing Up Night World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk About It Much

They lay in the darkness, side by side, letting their bodies cool after a round of energetic love-making.  
  
"So," Rodney said, "you never talk about it much. The whole...vampire thing."  
  
"Old habits die hard. Don't tell, or die." John shrugged, his shoulder brushing Rodney's.  
  
"Suddenly 'don't ask, don't tell' seems a lot less barbaric."  
  
John shrugged again. "You keep forgetting we're not human. We have different capabilities. We play by different rules."  
  
"You look human. You seem human."  
  
"I'm half-lamia, half-witch. Witches aren't human. They're stronger than humans, a little faster, senses a little better. Live longer. I swear Grandma Harman's about a hundred and thirty and she barely needs a cane."  
  
Rodney peered at John through the shadows. John was only a couple of years younger than Rodney, was incredibly trim - his job required it - but he didn't look...supernatural. Except for his eyes.  
  
John glanced back at him. "With witches, you can't tell by looking what they are. With vampires and shifters, you can. If you know what to look for."  
  
"Lorne looks normal to me."  
  
"He's very good at pretending to be something he's not."  
  
"What was it like?" Rodney asked. "Growing up as...you are?"  
  
John hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I mean, I went to school, if that's what you're asking. Ridiculous private school. Uniforms that were bully-magnets off-campus."  
  
"What about holidays? Did you get to have Christmas?"  
  
John laughed. "Not all humans celebrate Christmas, you know. This coming from the atheist scientist, no less. Not celebrating Christmas isn't a sign of aberration."  
  
"I'm sorry," Rodney said quickly.  
  
John rolled over, flung an arm across Rodney's waist. "It's fine. I'm not offended. Yes, we celebrated Christmas. Had a tree, exchanged presents, sent cards, the whole shebang. My father was a businessman, dealt primarily with humans, so we had to appear...human. But the biggest holiday in our house, hands down, was Samhain."  
  
"Sah-wen?" Rodney tested the word.  
  
"Halloween."  
  
"Oh. So, dressing up and getting lots of candy?"  
  
John snorted. "No. Well, yes, dressing up, but not getting candy. Going to circles and casting deep magic."  
  
"What did you dress up as?"  
  
"Oh, anything. Ancient gods - goddesses, for the girls. Incarnations of forces of nature. Dave liked to dress up as Dylan, god of the sea. Since it was Samhain, I usually picked Cernunnos."  
  
"I've never heard of them."  
  
"You don't put much stock in mythology."  
  
“True.” Rodney wondered what a teenage John would have looked like, in golden firelight, dressed as an ancient deity. Delectable, probably. “So...vampires. Witches. Werewolves and shapeshifters are all real. Zombies?”  
  
“Well, someone who doesn’t quite make the Change can become a type of zombie, but one who drinks blood instead of eats brains. It’s - disturbing.” John flinched at the memory.  
  
Rodney scooted closer to him. “You’ve seen one?”  
  
“I have a cousin who made one. His nanny. He almost killed her after his parents starved him for three days, so he tried save her by giving her some of his blood, but he was too little, and his parents stopped him, so she didn’t quite make the change. So then they killed her for real.”  
  
“His parents _starved_ him?” Rodney wondered if John’s parents had ever done that to him.  
  
“They thought he was getting too attached to his nanny. Wanted to train some of the ruthless hunter into him. So they starved him and then sent her to him and hoped he’d kill her. But he didn’t.”  
  
Rodney’s parents had been pretty horrible, but not that bad. “Okay. That answers that. What about ghosts?”

“Angry vengeful spirits? Sure. Had another cousin who accidentally summoned one in high school. It killed a bunch of kids before she sealed it back up.”  
  
“What the hell were her parents doing?”  
  
“Her parents died when she was little.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It’s why we don’t tell anyone about us. Hunters come. And they try to kill us. It’s why we have strict laws, why we have our own enforcers, why we’re supposed to do our best to blend in with the humans. So no one notices us, and we can go our way.”  
  
“...Should you be telling me all this?” Rodney asked.  
  
“Who are you going to tell?”  
  
“Point.” Then Rodney realized. “What about your mother? You...never talk about her.”  
  
John went still beside him, unmoving, not breathing.  
  
“I’m sorry. That’s too personal. I -”  
  
“She was killed by a hunter when I was fourteen.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Dave always took after Dad, learning the business, learning magic. I took after Mom. She taught me to feed safely, without drawing attention to myself, how to use my vampiric gifts. It made sense. Dave would inherit the family fortune and the business and the seat on the counsel, and I’d be his enforcer. But then Mom died, and Dad decided he was done with that side of the family.”  
  
“So you never saw them again?”  
  
“So he starved me out of my vampirism and I lived fully as a witch.”  
  
Rodney didn’t know what to say to that. The quiet fury in John’s tone was warning enough.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Rodney said finally.  
  
John’s arm around him tightened.  
  
“So...zombies. Ghosts. Angels?”  
  
“Never seen them.”  
  
“Demons?”  
  
“Shouldn’t be summoned by two elementary school boys who got into their grandmother’s Book of Shadows.”  
  
“You really summoned a demon?”  
  
“Grandma Harman screamed at us for days.”  
  
“How old were you?”  
  
“I was seven. Dave was nine.”  
  
“...Are you messing with me?”  
  
“Would I do that?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
John shifted closer so he was pressed against the length of Rodney’s side. “What can I do to convince you I’m trustworthy?” He leaned in, nuzzled Rodney’s throat.  
  
Rodney’s pulse jumped. “That’s a pretty good start, but I think your smart mouth has better uses, don’t you think?”  
  
John laughed, low and sultry, and slid lower down Rodney’s body, and wiped all thoughts of demons from Rodney’s mind.


End file.
